


To Forge Anew

by Nihl



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Byleth watches Sylvix struggle through different lifetimes, Cat!Sylvain, Character Death, M/M, Multi, Reincarnation, They are not always human, Worm-on-a-string!Felix, Wormlix?, except not really, will tag as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25725457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihl/pseuds/Nihl
Summary: Forge (verb).1. make or shape (a metal object) by heating it in a fire or furnace and beating or hammering it.2. create (a relationship or new conditions).Sylvain dies first. Felix follows after.They are reborn again and again, but they will always meet at least once.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & My Unit | Byleth, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Kudos: 5





	1. Mythril Ore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Ore ( _noun_ ).  
> A naturally occurring material from which a valuable mineral can be extracted

_“Do you remember the promise we made when we were kids? About sticking together until we die together?”_

As if Felix could forget. What a fool Sylvain was.

It was a long time ago, before either of them knew what it really meant to be in a war, to be close to death, to be on the verge of death. When Felix still had tears left. When Sylvain was still there to hold him close, brush his hair from his forehead and wipe the tears from his eyes. A simpler time. A peaceful time.

 _In another life_ , Felix thinks, _I think we would have passed peacefully together. Grown to be old men and die in our sleep at the same time, safe and warm in bed._

It’s too late to be having such fantasies now. Felix berates himself absently, amused, even as he bleeds out in the snow. It’s fitting, for him to die in the old Fraldarius lands like this. When he had cast off his title and became a wandering mercenary, he heard that Gautier had been given to Sreng in the negotiations after, and his father’s legacy had become property of Galatea. As his mind wanders, he thinks absently on who Ingrid has sent to manage his discarded lands now. Who will find his body.

Not that it matters. Nothing matters anymore.

All his thoughts go back to Sylvain. Sylvain, Sylvain, Sylvain. His smile when they met for the first time in Fhirdiad. The softness of his hair when they touched foreheads. The terrified whites of his eyes in that dim, dark well. The warmth of his shoulder at Glenn’s funeral. How he pressed all his long limbs close to his chest when Miklan died.

The callouses on his hands from lance training. The papercut when he flipped the pages in his Sreng book too fast. His soft coos as he brushed down his mare. How his eyes glowed in the light when the smile reached his eyes. The brush of his fingertips against his palm as he took candies from Felix's hand. His mouth, pursed and wet, around those same candies. Those chapped lips against his own. Those large hands around his waist, his thighs, his…

His blood in the stinking mud of the Caledonian Plateau, his dull, unseeing eyes reflecting the grey sky.

 _Sylvain,_ my _Sylvain._

Maybe, maybe Felix will finally get to see him again.

When he turns his head, the red blooming across the ground turns into Sylvain’s vibrant hair. The sky turns into Sylvain’s doublet. The grey clouds, Sylvain’s armor.

It’s all blurry now. He can feel his chest slow, the numbness spread to his lungs and throat. He doesn’t care.

_I want to see Sylvain again._

_Let me see Sylvain again._

_Goddess, please._

_Let me go to him._

\--o--

Pale green hair stirs in a wind he cannot feel. Worn, mossy stone extends in all directions into the darkness. Footsteps descend from an ancient throne and stop in front of him.

“I was hoping not to see you so soon.”

“What do you wish for?”

Warmth, the heat of large hands and a broad chest. Bright eyes the color of the sky at dusk. Large shoulders that block out the noon sun.

“…”

“He’s already ahead of you. You’ll have to work hard to catch up.”

He always worked hard. Sylvain always slacked off. He’d throttle his neck in no time.

“Hah. I have no doubt that you will.”

A cool hand against his head. Bright green eyes, pupils slitted, appear from the gloom. They’re depthless, endless, he’s lost—

“I’ll see you again. Safe travels, friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is meant to take place post-Verdant Wind. I'm posting the first two chapters now, as they are fairly short and I just smashed them out. Chapters will likely get longer as Sylvix gain more sentience.


	2. Smelting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Smelt ( _verb_ ).  
> extract (metal) from its ore by a process involving heating and melting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worm-on-a-string!Felix meets Cat!Sylvain

There’s fuzz in his face.

Dark fuzz, obscuring what would be his vision and tickle his eyes if he had any nerves there. He’s long, he thinks, as much as he can in this form, and fuzzy obviously. There’s a bit of thin string laying limp in front of him. It would piss him off, if he was capable of feeling.

His vision juggles suddenly in a blur as he’s picked up. He’s twirled in a circle and thrown. As he lands, he “sees” himself somehow, in the mirror—he’s some sort of limp fur-covered worm, with a string attached to its nose. If he could perceive color, he would find that he was dark blue.

The ground vibrates underneath him as something approaches. Bright grey(orange, actually)-and-white fur appears in a blob in front of him, and if he could hear he would be surprised by the deep rumbling purr that appears.

He’s picked up in a mouth full of sharp white teeth and set down on a softer surface. A bed, maybe?

A rough pink tongue soothes over the fabric that makes up his fur, making it go flat and wet.

His nonexistent synapses fire. _Disgusting_.

A feline face covered in long, wispy fur enters his vision. Its eyes flare into color suddenly, revealing vibrant pale orange that narrows and blinks slowly, and he gets the sense that it’s pleased. A white-tipped paw darts out and bats him across the floor, and everything goes blobby and different shades of grey and white and black again. The only thing he can “see” are those citrine orbs, that have haunted him since…

Since…

…

..?

He doesn’t know.

He can’t know, anyway. He has no brain. He’s a worm on a string.

His…life, if it can be called that, continues on this way for a while. Being held by a variety of hands, thrown, caught by paws or feline fangs or batted into dusty corners. Wiggled to the sound of music. Smushed underfoot by tall formless giants. Bright, blinding flashes of orange gleaming from a grey wispy blob of a face.

He loses some of his fur. It leaves gaping patches pale patches behind, reveals the vulnerable weave from which he is constructed. He loses one large, googly eye. He gets a hole in his side that’s stitched up, but not without leaving some of his cottony soft stuffing behind. His other eye gets eaten, disappearing between gleaming white fangs. The next time he’s torn open, the hands that reach for him and hold him up do not patch him back together.

He’s placed into darkness.

Time passes. Not that he can truly be aware of it.

Eventually, eventually, he wakes again in that ancient, darkened place.

\--o--

“That was relatively quick.”

“Do you see?”

“Did you recognize him?”

“Ah, you will in some lifetimes.”

“It will never be clear at first. Sometimes, you will never reach enlightenment at all. Even if you did, there is no guarantee he will gain awareness either.”

“Disappointment is normal. Not everything is a victory. You know this well.”

“I can’t rush the process. You must meet him in your own time.”

“You will find him again and again. I can guarantee that much. Whether you can hold onto him when you discover him, that is up to you two.”

“It’s time. Until we meet again, Felix.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working on The Fraldarius Legacy, but I've been in kind of a mood recently. Thinking about my online classes and the current state of things has me feeling pretty low. So this is my current attempt at therapy...angsty and silly Sylvix drabbles. 
> 
> This series will have chapters named by following the theme of sword-smithing, but I'm not exactly a weapons or weaponsmith scholar. I'm taking some of the definitions from a pdf I accessed online called "A Dictionary of Blacksmithing Terms" by John D. Light, published in 2007. The others are coming from multiple swordsmithing/blacksmithing websites, Google, and Wikipedia. Because of this I have at least 12 chapters planned, but there may be more depending on how later drabbles go.
> 
> If you like this, or are interested in any updates, feel free to comment or talk to me [@nininihl](https://twitter.com/nininihl) on twitter. Note that my twitter sometimes has r18+ content, so please be mindful of that.


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